Though my father swam a dozen or so laps, scouring the bottom of the pool, our efforts to retrieve mother's wedding ring were unsuccessful. He found only a plastic ring, the rubber from the leg of a deck chair and two pieces of chewed gum (deposited in the pool in blatant violation of my fatwa at the 2003 Radical Clerics' Convention in Tehran). God willing, their marriage will survive the loss of this ring, with the help of counseling from the ministry.
After our unsuccessful retrieval mission, I went to Oklahoma City for a couple of days. My aunt had tickets to see the Foo Fighters, peace be upon them, and she invited me to go along. This was the third time I had seen the band, dating back to the mid-'90s. This may seem peculiar to you, given the fact that I am a 7-year-old pug. But Allah works in mysterious ways. My first Foo Fighters show was in the historic Cain's Ballroom in Tulsa, a small venue that lacked air conditioning and was stiflingly hot, inspiring an alternate version of the song "Big Me" that has become popular on the bootleg circuit. It was interesting to see how the band had changed from those early days as I watched them Thursday at the cavernous Ford Center, soon to be the home of Oklahoma City's new NBA team.
Singer Dave Grohl first hit it big as drummer for the legendary band Nirvana, whose Pixies-inspired punk sensibilities rejected the trappings of arena rock. Now, the Foo Fighters have embraced such bombast. Thursday's show, which was excellent albeit a bit loud for my aging ears, featured a large entourage of backing musicians and a much-touted triangle solo that was met with a thunderous standing ovation.
I will pass no judgments on the merits of such a style shift except to say that any drum solo exceeding five minutes is probably excessive.